It Only Takes One
by AdylinJ
Summary: This was my submission for the KFM challenge about a one night stand.


It had been thirty-six months to the day that he shoved his saber defiantly into the stone in the Jedi Council chambers. It had been thirty-six months, one week, two days and, he remember looking at his chronometer, eighteen hours since he gave the order to slaughter thousands of his comrades and deafened himself to life. He still heard the screams of anguish and death circling through his mind, but a new voice had joined his own, began to echo 'help me', and that scared his proverbial socks off – not that he wore socks – but if he thought in stronger terms he might have gone mad.

He tried not to think of his life before two and a half years ago, and he did a pretty good job of it, but nightmares had a way of rearing their ugly head and each time they did, he boarded a shuttle and went further into the Outer Rim. Even here though, there were constant reminders of Mandalorian brutality; villages burned to ashes, refugees everywhere you looked and the orphans. The kids were the hardest to look in the eyes, to see the desolation and fear of facing the unknown.

The Jedi waited too long and while he may have ended the war with the press of a button, he couldn't heal the carnage already wrought. Maybe it was a blessing the council stripped him of the Force. Otherwise, he would probably have killed himself trying to heal wounds he couldn't since he had a hand in causing them by waiting to act.

He was on a shuttle and was jostled from his thoughts by the heavyset man who occupied the seat next to him, "I'm seeing my boy for the first time in five years," the man said.

He smiled and nodded, glad someone was getting back something they lost.

"You got family here?"

He shook his head and told him, "They're dead." His mother had died ten years prior and, well, the Jedi sentence for his actions was exile, so they were dead to him, but the two words had the desired effect. The man mumbled his apologies and went back to watching the shuttle approach the spaceport. Now here's the thing; he had no idea where he was, and it was all Gater's fault he was on this crowded shuttle in the first place about to land on a planet he didn't know . . .

"Atoz?"

He kept walking thankful his training included how to be a snobby stuck-up Jedi. He was at the edge of the galaxy, light-years from his childhood home. How the hell did Gater Toger wind up here? More important, why the hell did he still remember that ridiculous nickname he used when they were six? What started out as A-to-Z was shortened to Atoz just because his name is Aeden Zared. He kept walking, but Gater was determined and tapped on his arm, so he turned to him. "Can I help you?"

"I thought it was you," he said as his face lit up with a smile. "Don't tell me you don't remember me, Aeden. Gater Toger? We grew up together"

"I'm sorry," he apologized shoving aside every childhood memory he had of Gater, "I think you have me confused with someone else."

Master Vrook always said lying can lead to the dark side, well guess what, you old windbag, I can't feel the Force thanks to the council, so neener neener on you.

Gater looked like he was ready to argue but he apologized after taking a few moments to study him. "Sorry, I thought you were a buddy of mine from long ago, Aeden Zared."

"Can't help you," he lied and walked straight to the shuttle docks were he bought a ticket to . . . wherever he was about to land.

_Damn you, Gater! _His mother swore they were twins joined at the hip because where Aeden went; Gater and "the horde" as she called his friends were soon to follow. His whole life had been like that. He never lacked for friends. Even at the enclave, the other students gravitated towards him. Especially the younglings and he didn't mind. He liked the kids, found them much more fun than the adults. He would take them camping on the Khoonda plains, help them find crystals in the cave and let them crawl into his bed at night when they were homesick or frightened.

This was why he went as far from the core worlds as possible. He didn't want to run into people he knew, or meet new people, so he only spoke when he was spoken to. If he had to talk, it was short, sweet and to the point with minimum communication required. He wasn't rude, but he had perfected the 'stay-away-I'm-toxic persona'. He knew if he tried to socialize, everything he was, everything he had and lost would come back to plague his mind.

Anyway, his the plan was to find a room, find a bottle, get drunk, pass out, hope his dreams were kind and morning came quickly. The room was easy and, as it looked, so was the clientele, but it was clean. The food, however, was horrendous. The third bite of the mystery special was enough to convince him that a liquid dinner would be better.

Wandering the dusty town, Zared passed a few cantinas knowing his goal of getting drunk would probably end in a fight, and that wasn't the goal. He wanted to pass out from drinking, not a knock to the head, so the place he chose looked relatively respectable. They had a large selection behind the bar and the customers looked like they minded their own business.

It was a normal crowd of working-class folks looking to relax a little before going home. All except for one that is; she was stunning with delicate features, pale skin and long hair, almost as dark as his. However, what really struck him were her eyes, the soulful violet eyes, that when they locked with his seemed to echo the 'help me' with one of her own. Long forgotten feelings stirred in the dark places of his soul and he shoved them back.

It took him a moment, but he realize her silent pleading became more desperate and that's when he came out of the sensual stupor she induced, to notice the three men surrounding her. They were big and ugly and she clearly didn't want their attention. They crowded around her as she sat at the bar, touching her shoulder, laughing as she cringed or batted their hands away. He may no longer be the knight with the shinning saber, but his mother taught him well; never mistreat a lady.

"Excuse me," he said approaching the group.

"Who the hell are you," one of the men demanded. His nose was smashed in, he had a nasty scar from his left brow to his ear, he was missing several teeth, and his breath would have felled a Bantha. The other two weren't quite as pretty but he wasn't worried about taking them on if it came to a fight. Take out the ringleader and the others would tuck tail and run.

"I'm . . ."

"My husband," she said in a soft but clear voice as she took his hand and squeezed.

He couldn't very well call her a liar now could he, so he stepped past the men and leaned over to kiss her cheek. "I'm sorry I'm late, honey." He didn't remember if she said anything, her light sexy scent seemed to command his attention. Turning his back to her, to protect her, he focused on the leader. Any charm faded in a flash and he knew his eyes went hard. _I guess some habits died hard._

The ringleader mumbled something under his breath but he and his cohorts ambled away. When Zared was satisfied he wasn't going to find a knife in his back, he turned toward the woman. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. Thank you," she said with a slight smile. Okay, that, added to the sexy scent, and he quickly felt himself sinking over his head. When he walked into this place, his goal was to have a few drinks and maybe something to eat. Rescuing the damsel in distress was not on the agenda, so when she suggested they get a booth, he was surprised that he agreed, not quite ready to let her out of his sight.

"Uh, there's not a husband I have to worry about, is there," he asked as they sat down with their drinks.

She shook her head and he saw a haunted look come into her eyes.

"He died . . ."

_Don't say it - don't say it - don'tsayitdon'tsayitdon'tsayit._

"Five years ago in a mine accident."

Was he a callous bastard for feeling relief flood through him? Too many times, he heard about loved ones lost in the war, so he thought he was allowed, but he apologized anyway for her loss.

She shook her head and gave him that shy smile and he felt himself go under a little further. "These things happen. We knew the risks of mining but he was determined to provide for us, to prove my father wrong. However, you move on. What else can you do?"

_Wander the Outer Rim,_ he thought taking a long draw on his drink.

"It's not easy," she went on, "I'll admit that, but I think everyone has something to contribute to life, to their community."

If they gave awards for acting, he would have won for not spitting his drink across the table, snorting at her naiveté, or worse, accusing her of being a Jedi, but he was good. "And what's your contribution?"

"Can we take a walk?"

It was a sudden question and caught him off guard, but her eyes, which he was continually drawn to, were eager. He offered his hand after he slid from the booth and realized that was the wrong thing to do. Hers was small, delicate, and warm and his long forgotten feelings grew stronger. Damnit, he was beginning to care, and that was against his code of not getting involved.

When they reached outside, she gently tugged on his hand to go left. "You were going to tell me what your contribution is." He was dying to know, actually, how she kept such a positive attitude when something she clearly loved had been taken from her.

"Was I?" She tipped her head back so she could look at me.

_I am in so much trouble,_ he told himself as he looked down at the woman who barely reached his shoulder. Was there really a comforting light in her eyes? Didn't she know the galaxy was falling apart at the seams? Was she really that naïve?

"I teach some of the younger kids."

His left brow arched and his mind went straight to the gutter. The lonely schoolmarm and the drifter. He managed to stifle the groan but just barely.

She must have recognized the look in his eyes because hers narrowed and she bumped against him. "No schoolmarm jokes."

"I didn't say a thing," he defended himself as he placed his free hand over his heart. The damage was done though as the image of her naked was burned in his mind.

"Gizka boogers!"

"Wha . . . What?" _By the gods, is that my laugh? It sounds so . . . rusty. When did that happen? When did I forget how to laugh?_

"I can see it in your eyes."

"You see nothing," he said with a grin as they walked on.

"Maybe, when I first saw you in the bar." All humor bled from his face. "Like now. I'm sorry."

She began to draw away from him and something akin to panic began to rise, so he shook his head and smiled but it didn't reach his eyes.

"You were a soldier, in the war," she stated.

"No." _I was the Jedi General that ended it._

"But you lost something," she told him as she pulled on his hand to stop. He turned to her and brushed the long silken hair from her shoulder as he memorized her face. They what, shared an hour, maybe a little less, and this slip of a woman had touched a place in him thought dead; she made him laugh, such at is was, and she made him feel. Fear trickled down his spine.

"Come with me, I want to show you something."

"Not Gizka boogers, I hope."

Her smile was sweet, innocent, and something else within him twisted loose. "I actually got that from little Arin Cani, it's what he calls his sister."

"Nice kid," he murmured as he let her pull him along. It was a little awkward with his long legs to match her pace, but she still held his hand, or he held hers like a lifeline. Either way he didn't want to look too closely at those feelings.

"Believe me, what she calls him would probably make even a tough guy like you blush."

"Tough?" _Not any more._ "I'm a lowly Tach."

She even pulled off sarcasm with grace as she scoffed and rolled her eyes. "You don't lie well, you know that, right? But, I imagine you can get away with it, because somewhere under that hard-as-durasteel facade is a dangerous charmer."

_He died, two and half years ago today._

When they stopped, they were standing on a small rise overlooking the town. In the distance was the spaceport, but more surprising perhaps was the ocean and the two moons reflecting their brilliant light from its sparkling surface. _Where the bloody hell did that come from? He had noticed that, right. It's kinda hard to miss a body of water that big, or that loud, or the salty sea air, wasn't it._ Frowning to himself, he was beginning to realize his existence consisted of the three feet around him.

"Here, sit," she said tugging him down beside her before she snuggled next to him for warmth. It was the most natural thing to do, to wrap his arms around her to protect her from the cool breeze. "What do you see," she asked as she laced her fingers with his.

"Is this a trick question?" _What do I see? I see a beautiful young woman with a body to die for snug against my side, sending my body into overdrive and opening places in my mind that were safely sealed shut. _Jedi, Ex-Jedi it didn't matter; he was still a man and it had been a long time since a woman touched him with trust and innocence. _You'll run, if you know what's good for you._

She chuckled. "If you were here, just a few years ago, you would have seen destruction. Most of the town was still in ruins from the war, struggling to provide for the refugees that came from other towns or from near-by systems.

"We were one of the first planets hit by the Mandalorians. I think they saw us as a proving ground of sorts, a place to test their tactics and strategies."

He closed his eyes against the image of her touched by war. This is why he kept to himself.

"They say it's always darkest before the dawn and that's when they struck. They took out the communications first, and then the spaceport before their ships bombarded the surface and their Basilisk war droids screamed through the early light of morning. When it was over, what you see before you were flattened hollow shells, smoky ruins, and the dead littering the streets. The children . . ." she snuggled closer to him. "It took weeks to get communications back and learn that the rest of the planet had suffered the same fate. Those that thought about leaving suddenly had no place to go.

"My husband was one of them. He changed after that. Don't get me wrong, he was still a good man, but he was angry. He hadn't just lost his home, he lost his way of life and felt trapped that his options had been stolen from him."

Although her voice was soft and melancholy, he heard the strength of her resolve; the conviction in her belief that life went on.

"Is that when he went into mining?"

After a moment of silent rumination, she shook her head. "No. What he did was get busy. He turned that anger and desolation into something constructive. He went to the cantina owners and convinced them to shut down for one week. When folks showed up to get drunk and drown their sorrows, he was there with a tool or wagon full of building supplies and told them if they wanted to drink, they had to rebuild the bar, or the brothel or the stores where they shopped. There was a lot of mumbling and grumbling . . ."

"I'll bet," he muttered in a wry tone.

"He got a few bloody noses too," she said with a resigned grin, "but he stuck by his plan and slowly but surely, the town became productive again. Homes and business were rebuilt; the spaceport began to take shape. From the ashes, the death, and the loss of so much, hope arose and still drives what you see today."

She turned around so she could face him. He was looking out at the ocean, his incredibly blue eyes reflecting another time and she knew that's where he was and not with her. He was utterly still, his breathing the only indication of movement and even that was difficult to discern.

When she first saw him walk into the cantina, she recognized him for the walking tortured soul he was, so it surprised her when he came to help with the three rough men. He wore confidence and strength like his own skin, and his look was dangerous and sexy, with his black hair an attractive shabby style that curled over his collar, but it was his brilliant blue eyes, which held her attention. Shuttered against others prying interest, they saw everything around him. A couple of times, when he was dealing with the three thugs, his right had reached behind him but came back empty as if it was an unconscious impulse to reach for what was no longer there. It made her think of the injured that had lost an arm or a leg and swore they could still feel it and the phantom pain of loss.

She reached up and lightly trailed her fingers along the dark stubble of his jaw to turn his face toward her. When he did, his eyes were clouded. "What haunts you? What have you lost," she whispered still tracing her fingertips along his skin.

"Why do you want to know?" He didn't ask the question in anger, but she instinctively knew she had stepped on a line. When her hand dropped away, he felt the loss immediately.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean . . ."

She looked into his eyes and had to see the desperation to believe, to trust in something that was honest, innocent, and safe. Listening to her talk about rebuilding the town, he saw the last few years of his life. An image he thought he had banished forever, burned bright. It was after the destruction of Malachor V and he had collapsed against the wall in his quarters and sank to his knees. He could feel the light fade from him, the proud, cocky, and fun-loving aura dim as his hands became bloody and mangled from the abuse he unleashed on his room. But, it was the screams he couldn't block, even covering his ears, he could hear the terrible shriek that tore at his sanity before he collapsed.

"Because," she paused and he silently urged her to continue, "Because it haunts you, it's destroying you inside, and you don't know how to stop it. I see it in your eyes," she whispered.

He reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, letting his fingers rest near the pulse point behind her lobe. _How do you tell someone you lost your humanity? _His chest constricted just thinking about it because this was the first time he admitted it to himself.

When Kavar chose him as his Padawan, he took an oath to uphold the Jedi Code. Sure, he balked at some it, come on now, how could they expect a randy teenage boy to ignore his passions, but he believed in it and what the order stood for.

When Revan asked him to go with her, he truly felt it was the right thing to do; he still did. Yet, something happened to Aeden Zared out there as he fought in the jungles of Dxun, or on Althir or as he stood, alone, before telling the Iridonian to activate the Mass Shadow Generator. He wished he could remember the techs name, but he couldn't or his face for that matter. Or any of the other countless faces that he watched die either by his hand or because he wasn't quick enough to save them.

"My mother told me once that we will lose many things in our life. Loved one, friends, but no one can take away what you are unless you let them." She held his hands securely as if she could heal the emptiness he carried within.

_It's not that simple_, he thought. He wasn't just cut off from the Force; he lost his passion for life, his sense of humor, yet her last words echoed in his mind. Everyone around him was gone. Revan and Malak and so many of his fellow Jedi had fallen to the dark side, the council exiled him, but her words made him recognize he needed to come to terms with his part in this shadowy illusion his life had become. He don't know if he'd ever be able to let go of what the council did to him, but perhaps it was time to let the dead find their peace, his actions slide quietly into history and move on.

"I upset you," she said tipping her head down in shame, for what he don't know because she had done more for him in a few hours than anyone had done in his lifetime.

He tipped her chin up. "No, you haven't"

It was a hesitant move on her part, innocent and charming all at the once as she leaned forward and brushed her lips against his. They were soft and warm and he didn't bother to come up for air this time. He let her warmth wash over him, her light caress drown his senses.

He may have lost everything two and a half years ago but he was finding the most important thing in her arms. His self.

They were both half naked before she shoved at his shoulder and covered his eager mouth with her hand. It took a moment, but he could hear voices not too far away. Holding perfectly still until they passed was difficult. He was on fire for this woman and the moment they were gone she began giggling.

"Come on, we can go to my place. I don't think the town council would look kindly on the local schoolmarm getting caught in a compromising position."

"How far," he asked against her neck as he nibbled at her soft skin. Every part of her fit against his body perfectly and he was loathe to let go.

"Just up the hill," she breathed.

He looked up, saw the light in the window, and frowned. "Wait a minute, we're a hundred meters from a bed but we're rolling around out here getting sand up our . . ."

She tipped her head back and laughed. A full, rich, throaty laugh that was better than any cure a doctor could prescribe. She trailed her fingers over his shoulder and down his bare chest. "I'll wash your back," she teased, moving out from under him. "Race ya!"

It was a blur if her front door was even closed before she leapt into his arms, wrapped her legs around him and pointed to her room. Every touch, every caress and kiss may fade over time, but Zared knew he would remember waking up. The sun was bright, the air soft and warm and the scent of the ocean breeze was clean as it gently fluttered through the gauzy curtains.

She was right where he pictured her, naked beside him, her breathing even in her sleep, her body warm. He knew his smile had to be ridiculous and no, it wasn't from the incredible sex. Some time last night, he had found it within himself to go on, to move forward, to no longer hate those anniversaries he kept too alive in his mind.

He held her for a few more minutes before he carefully disentangled himself from her grasp. He didn't want to wake her. He wanted this image of her peacefully sleeping, and last night, to remain unmarred by doubt or regret. He gathered his clothes, realized his jacket was still outside, and left the room.

Once he was dressed, he found a blank piece of paper and left her a note. Aeden, yes Aeden, he thought, not Jedi Zared, felt he owed her something after what she had done for him. Then he left, got his coat before checking out of the hotel he never used, and headed for the spaceport and the next shuttle . . .


End file.
